Sibling Rivalry
by LeFemmeChevalier
Summary: "It is exactly 2:00 a.m.; two hundred hours in military time. She has approximately one hour and thirty minutes to accomplish this mission, and she figures that the allotted time is more than enough..." [Rachel/Quinn]
1. Chapter 1: Mission Possible

**Disclaimer:** Glee and its characters belong to where it legally belongs, i.e. not me.

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><p><strong>Chapter One: <strong>Mission Possible

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><p>It is exactly 2:00 a.m.; two hundred hours in military time. She has approximately one hour and thirty minutes to accomplish this mission, and she figures that the allotted time is more than enough.<p>

A glance to the mirror on her right showed how ready she is for this. With the aid of the dim light emitting from the bedside lamp, she scrutinized herself, mentally checking for any flaws. She decided to be a cliché and don an all black ensemble: black tights topped with a black skin-tight long-sleeved shirt and black socks (for extra stealth) as her footwear. A black beanie completed it all and she knows she's ready to go.

Satisfied, she tore her eyes from the mirror and into the metallic clutters of gizmos and gadgets scattered on her bed. She carefully picked it all one-by-one, inspecting it for flaws at whatnot - she wouldn't want anything to _not_ work in the middle of the mission - before putting it all in a black bag that she "borrowed" from Jacob.

Well, except for _one_ device.

A satisfied smile graced her lips as she picked up the object: a military-issued night vision goggles that Alexis managed to get for her. She then wore it and watched as a greenish hue tinged her vision. Satisfied, she slung the black bag on both her shoulders and nodded to herself.

And with that, she's ready and she's confident that it'll be a successful mission.

She padded towards the exit door of her headquarters, reaching out for the doorknob and carefully turning it with a firm determination on her face.

_It's show time._

The hallway is predictably dark, but that's not a problem with her night vision googles. The environment is tinged with green, her vision perfectly revealing all the nook and crannies. Very carefully, she started to tiptoe towards her mission place, mindful of every step.

With the aid of her sock-covered feet, she practically made no noise against the floorboards. And with ninja-like grace aided by the goggles, she managed to avoid the occasional lamps, statues, and potted plants that are scattered here and there.

Her glow-in-the-dark wristwatch told her that five minutes have gone by as she now stood at the mission entrance: a wooden door at the far end of the hallway. She drew in a big breath and stood still while counting ten seconds backward, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to do.

Slowly, she unslung her bag, reached inside, and oh-so-carefully extracted what she would need: a set of lock picking tools. Remembering those three days of non-stop practice, she patiently worked on the door's lock until she heard that satisfying 'click'.

_Phase one complete._

She carefully put the tools back inside the bag and slung it again on her shoulders. She then carefully opened the door and held her breath as the door's hinge creaked slightly. Slowly, she managed to slip inside without being detected before carefully closing the door behind her.

Her eyes surveyed the inside of the room, taking in the greenish hue that is provided for her eyes. Right now, she can't exactly pinpoint any colors adorning the room, but she knows the layout enough to see the big picture: light cream walls with red and gold.

It's always red and gold, and it never changes.

A little smile tugged at her lips at the predictability. It's comforting and yet limiting.

And it has to stop.

_Back to work._

Across the room, there's a door: the mission door. She tiptoed toward it, but not without bypassing the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. A tuft of light-colored hair is peeking at the top of the blanket, coupled with a gentle rise and fall of breathing that indicates deep sleep. Her ears strained to hear a familiar sound that should accompany the sleeper: a light snoring.

After a brief pause, she nodded in satisfaction when she detected it. Carefully, she tiptoed towards the mission door, and as she reached for it, she cast another look at her wristwatch.

Fifteen minutes have gone by.

Gently, she opened the door and was met with tiles in greenish hue. Closing the door behind gently, her eyes swept the area, noting for any discrepancies that could potentially endanger the mission. And when there's none, she then focused on looking for her target.

_Ah, there it is!_ she thought with a smirk as she padded towards the shower. She paused and stood, looking up at the shower head with gleeful smile on her face.

_Phase two complete_

She unslung her bag again and noiselessly dropped it on the tiled floor. Unzipping it, she took out an improvised mining helmet that she put together at the last minute, although it's not so much of an helmet as it is just an inch thick around the head with 2 small flashlight stuck on either side of the ear.

She clicked the little switch on the side before taking off her goggles. She then wore the improvised helmet, the flashlights emitting enough light to illuminate without being overly bright. When she's comfortable with it, she carefully extracted all the things that she would be needing.

And with a glance on her wrist, she was set to an hour-long work.

_Commence primary mission._

Forty minutes later and it's all done. She then looked at her wristwatch and grinned when she realized that she managed to accomplish the mission perfectly within the allotted time-frame. Carefully gathering the tools and putting it all back in the bag, she took off the helmet before putting her goggles back on. She then turned off the helmet's light before carefully reopening the door.

Now back outside the mission door, she's having an internal debate about something that she thought of doing before going back to her headquarters. It's not something she gave much thought, just slight intrigue of what the consequence would be.

With that in mind, she absentmindedly went towards the bed in the middle of the room. She tiptoed to its right side and stood still, looking down at the occupant. The figure is still fast asleep, indicated by the soft snores that reached her ears.

Tilting her head slightly, she regarded the person with idle curiosity. With a greenish hue still veiling her eyes, she scrutinized the slumbering person before her who somehow moved the blanket away from her body.

As with the room, her vision at the moment doesn't provide her with an accurate scrutiny. But years of observation gave her enough to accurately describe the occupant. She knew of the blonde hair - lighter than her own strawberry-blonde hair - that is sprawled on the pillow. She knew of the hazel eyes - same shape to her own light blue - though the other person's eyes are closed at the moment.

Quinnie looks a lot like her.

Her internal debate still ongoing, she noiselessly rummaged through her bag and found what she's looking for. Mentally ticking off all the pros and cons of her would-be-felony, she arrived at the conclusion that the pros _definitely_ outweighs the cons.

_Plus, curiosity is the foundation of great scientific discovery and achievement,_ she thought, although at the back of her mind she knows that curiosity kills the cat. In her case, it happened a lot more than she cares to admit.

But curiosity is still strong and will always win.

Resigning to her inevitable fate by tomorrow, she raised her hand that's now clutching an object. It got closer and closer to Quinnie's face, and she then started to unleash her very own artistic talent.

_Commence side-target mission._

A few moments later and she was thoroughly satisfied with her work. Standing upright, she looked at her watch and noticed that she still got five minutes left to spare. With that, she turned around and started tiptoeing towards the exit.

Now in front of the door, she carefully turned the door knob, pushed the lock, and stepped outside, the door softly shutting behind her with the lock clicking in place.

She stood for a minute with a smile, relishing her success while musing at the inevitable apocalypse tomorrow. She tiptoed towards her headquarters, pensive.

_It has to be done,_ she mused to herself. _Quinnie needs change, but will never do it herself. So, someone has to step up and do it for her._

She sighed. _And it has to be someone who's not afraid and is perfectly fine to cross her if necessary,_ she thought.

Opening the door to her headquarters, she stepped inside and quietly closed it behind her. She stood still with her back against the closed door as she closed eyes, still pensive.

She just hopes that tomorrow won't be too bad.

With a quick look at her wrist, she realized that she only has three and a half hours allotted for sleep. Quickly, she changed into her jammies, tucked away the midnight ensemble in the back of her closet, and placed her tools in a place where she knows it cannot be found.

And as she closed her eyes and readied herself for sleep, one thought flitted through her mind:

Charlie: 20 points, Quinnie: 18 points

It is now exactly 3:30 a.m.; three hundred and thirty hours in military time. Charlotte Fabray slept with a smile on her face and a curiosity of what later will bring.

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><p>To be continued...<p>

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><p><strong>AN: **Yeah... I know I should be working on my multi-fics, but I got bored with it for a while. (Sorry! :P)

This is a side-project (like _furthest corner_ kind of side) that just sprouted out-of-nowhere.

Wait, I lied. This is actually a year older than the prologue of ACN. I don't think this will yield many chapters though (three or four maybe?).

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><p>Comments, criticisms, suggestions, and even violent reactions are welcome. Go crazy, mate. :)<p> 


	2. Chapter 2: Hell Hath No Fury

**Disclaimer:** Glee and its characters belong to where it legally belongs, i.e. not me.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two:<strong> Hell Hath No Fury

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><p>A shrill sound reached her ears, effectively waking her up from her slumber. Eyes still closed, she reached out to her right and blindingly slammed her hand to halt the infernal device.<p>

The alarm clock is an old-school one, courtesy of her mother. She would've been perfectly fine with a digital one - or even her iPhone, for christ's sake - but Judy vehemently insisted that old-school is always effective.

Quinn doesn't get that logic. If it is _so_ effective, then why do most people opted for the new-age, digital ones?

The answer is always a smile and a "Mom knows best, sweetie" answer, and she would just roll her eyes at that: Mom do knows best, so she just chose to endure every morning wondering if her ears are bleeding in protest.

Well, at least it does its job; every morning, she couldn't wait to wake up just to smash the noisy menace, imagining that it's the last time it'll incur its wrath of shrillness.

Haphazardly throwing her covers, she sat on her bed with eyes still closed. She yawned, trying to fight off sleep. She's not really the kind to just sit in bed, gauging herself if she is ready to take a shower without falling sleep in the middle of shampooing; no, she is just so goddamn tired for running suicides while keeping the freshman recruits in line.

_Keep them in their frightened toes, Goldilocks. That way, they would be battle ready anytime_, anywhere, Coach Sylvester always says. Although she's finding it difficult to correlate the importance of terrorizing to cheerleading, she always just nod and comply.

Team captains always listens to their coaches, especially their _seventh_ time, award-winning cheerleading coaches.

A few minutes went by when she felt that she's finally ready. Swinging her legs, her dainty feet touched the ground. She stood up - her eyes partially closed - and proceed to feel her way towards her bathroom. It wasn't as difficult as it seems; living her whole life in the fairly large house, she can feel her way through blackouts with ease.

The moment that her feet touched the cold tiles, she blindly closed the door before peeling off her jammies. With a yawn, she padded her naked self towards the shower and stepped inside. She locked the glass door - a habit she maintains since watching a slasher flick about a girl getting murdered in the shower - and then turned the shower head on.

With the warm water trickling down her body, she sighed in relief - she loves hot showers - before feeling her way through a vast selection of shampoo and conditioner. She picked one bottle, sniffed it, and proceed to lather her medium-length hair.

She started to hum - a habit she picked up from she-who-must-not-be-named - a simple tune under her breath as the scent of strawberry wafted inside the enclosed space. She kept her eyes closed all throughout, just enjoying the warmth, that she didn't notice that something is amiss.

Thirty minutes later, she finally emerged from the shower - a thick cloud of sauna-like smoke billowed from the inside like those special effects in a rock concert - squeaky clean and fruity-scented. Fully awake, she reached out for her fluffy, bathrobe, not looking back to the shower she just left.

If she only spared a glance, she'll see the red-tinted water covering the shower floor.

Singing softly under her breath - a habit she _definitely_ picked up from she-who-must-not-be-named but won't admit - she then proceed to pick up another towel and dried her hair. She was busy wondering what her mom would be serving at breakfast that she didn't notice that her white, fluffy towel is tinted with pink.

She discarded the towel on a nearby hamper - still not looking - and walked to her vanity area. Thinking of the grueling practice later after school, she sighed as she padded towards a cabinet. She picked up her blow drier, humming, and plugged in on the nearby socket.

Now in front of her vanity corner, she looked up and paused. Eyebrows furrowed, she rubbed her eyes with her knuckles, not entirely sure of what she is seeing.

She rubbed again.

Again for the third time.

When she's fairly sure that the reflection is indeed her own, she started feeling anger bubbling within her. A scream is starting to work its way and Quinn could feel it rumbling inside her chest, clawing to get away.

Hazel eyes blazing, she furiously unplugged her blow drier - probably ruining the poor thing in the process, but that's irrelevant for now - and stomped her way out of the bathroom. Motivated by anger, she didn't stop until she's now outside her room.

With her naked, slightly wet - but definitely flushed - body covered with fluffy bathrobe and now-_pink_, wet hair, she stomped through the hallway before stopping at the top of the stairs.

"I AM GONNA KILL YOU CHARLIE!" she bellowed, her angry voice filling the hallway. Her face is contorted with fury, decorated with doodles done in black sharpie.

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><p>Judy Fabray is busy cooking a variety of breakfast: eggs and extra bacon for Charlotte, toasts and extra bacon for Quinn, pancakes and extra bacon for Russell, and a big bowl of salad to stave off some of the future heart complications that she knows this family will eventually succumb into.<p>

She long gave up her hopes for her family to embrace healthy living. When she was younger, she's an avid fan of vegetarian options in her diet. Although she can never give up meat, she always make sure to at least have a balanced diet.

But when the kids came into her life, Russell somehow passed his "addiction" to them. Her husband - a man so childish that she's wondering if she's raising three teenagers instead of just two - insists that it's a _normal_ diet.

She always roll her eyes at that; three against one is _never_ a fair fight.

Sighing, she just plated the rest of bacon and waited for her family with a coffee in one hand.

Her coffee is almost done when her youngest came bouncing down the stairs. She is wearing tight pants and a pink shirt with a print saying 'save the Shrödinger's cat'. A pair of chucks completes the look.

"Morning, Mom!" the younger blonde chirped, picking up a strip of bacon to munched on. Her long, blonde tresses is surprisingly not in a ponytail - _vanity is a disease suffered by most brain-dead __teenagers, Mom_, Judy remembers her saying when she once asked - and was down, slightly curled halfway.

"Morning, honey. Go sit down."

The younger blonde shook her head, the thin-framed glasses getting skewed with the movement. "I have to go to school now."

Judy raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at that. "It's still too early."

"I have some projects in need of finishing," the younger blonde reasoned before picking another grease-covered, heart-attack inducing strip. "It's a CCTV that's hooked on the stop lights. It'll be automatically activated when someone broke the traffic rule and..."

The older blonde chuckled, listening to her inventor of a child prattle on about her newest, government-funded invention. It still amazed her how a simple set of parents - she's a nurse and Russell is a lawyer - were graced with a child of such astounding high IQ.

It wasn't only Charlotte, though. Her oldest is also a talented one, blessed with a natural aptitude for complicated, gymnastic movements that's responsible for making her the Cheerleading Captain of William McKinley High.

"...and then I'm going to hang with Alexis and Jacob after school. Is that okay?"

The older blonde just nodded. "Okay, honey. Just be careful."

With a nod and a smile, the younger blonde kissed the older blonde's cheek before skipping towards the door. "Bye Mo-"

"I AM GONNA KILL YOU CHARLIE!"

Two blonde heads whipped towards the stairs: one curious and one wide-eyed. Judy turned her attention to her younger child and saw her fumbling to open the door.

"Bye Mom!"

"Charlotte!"

The door was slammed closed, leaving Judy with a sense of something akin to migraine.

_Here we go again..._ she thought - fingers massaging her temples - as she think of ways to calm her other daughter down.

She just hopes that it wouldn't escalate into a physical fight, just like last month.

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><p>"Hey, Charlie."<p>

"Hey, Jake. The eagle has furiously landed. Go drive."

The boy chuckled, his boyishly good-looks enhanced by his toothy smile. "Mission accomplished?"

Light blue eyes twinkled as she remembered last night's mission. "Of course," she said, a mischievous smile surfacing when she remembered the shouting. "I'm always thorough, you know that."

The boy laughed before a smirk - the trademark Puckerman smirk - showed. "I need my bag back, though."

Charlie rolled her eyes at that. "I'll give it to you tomorrow. Now c'mon, we need to pick up Alexis."

"Of course. Let's go pick up the girlfriend."

The blonde punched the chuckling boy hard on his muscled arm, although she didn't confirm nor deny anything. As the car roared to life, she looked back to her house, curious.

Her eyes found the open window and saw Quinnie, her hair colored with pink - just like she planned - and her face covered with black smudges. She is shouting, fury apparent in her expression, and Judy seems to be trying to calm her down. Charlie could imagine - perfectly, in fact - the words that are spouting from her sister.

She giggled as the car maneuvered into the highway.

_What will happen later?_ she wondered as the car drove off to pick up Alexis Lopez. She stared at the car window as Jake Puckerman turned on his stereo, thinking of ways to hide from the Cheerios later.

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><p>To be continued...<p>

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><p><strong>AN:** Bored with my other fic so I added another chapter here. :D

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><p>Comments, criticisms, suggestions, and even violent reactions are welcome. Go crazy, mate. :)<p> 


	3. Chapter 3: The Babysitter

**Disclaimer:** Glee and its characters belong to where it legally belongs, i.e. not me.

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><p><strong>Chapter Three:<strong> The Babysitter

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><p><em>Four years ago:<em>

Judy sighed in relief when she finally reached the front door. _Nine p.m., right on time,_ she thought as her hand reached into her purse.

Working late is a non-issue for her, seeing that she has been doing it all her career. But since Russell is in another state for work and Quinn is away for a 'cheer-over' in a lake cabin, she hired a babysitter for Charlotte.

After a full minute of rummaging - her purse has a lot of knick-knacks that she dares not to throw away - her hand finally settled on the house keys. Blurting out a soft "Yes!", she immediately inserted the right key into the doorknob. With a few jiggling, she hurriedly opened the door and stepped inside.

"Rachel?" she called out as soon as the door closed behind her. She looked left and right, confused at the lack of hurried footsteps and incessant chatter that usually greet her.

"Rachel?" she called again as she strutted onwards, suspicious. It was quiet; the lack of Broadway musicals and enthusiastic singing as background noises is enough for Judy to worry. She padded towards the the living room, ears alert for any sound. But as she walked closer - her stilettos clicking with each step, hazel eyes widened at the scene.

The living room is a mess, the floor littered with unidentified parts from what she realized - in horror because it was _expensive_ - as the collective parts of the entire entertainment system. Everything is butchered and is scattered on the floor: the speakers, the DVD player, and even the HD, 100-inch flat-screen television that Russell adores.

And right in the middle of the living floor is a twelve year-old Charlotte, her long, curly tresses collected in a messy bun. She has a pinched, determined expression as her hand busied themselves with unscrewing and unwiring some of the butchered parts.

"Charlie!" Judy screeched, her eyes still wide in shock. The girl in question jumped in surprise, dropping her screwdriver as her own light blues widened beneath the spectacles.

"You're home," the girl simply said with a sweet smile before turning her attention back to her work, her expression now pensive.

When the blonde didn't look up again, Judy decided to exercise her will-strengthening mantra - like what her therapist ordered years ago - and closed her eyes. _Breath in, breath out..._ she thought, inhaling and exhaling in tune of her mantra. She always do this, especially when it's a stressful situation involving her youngest.

"Honey, what are you doing?" Judy finally inquired as calmly as she could, although her eye twitched when Charlotte nonchalantly threw a brass-like part on the floor.

The blonde girl looked up again. "I was bored and there's nothing to do," she replied casually - as if butchering appliances is a sensible cure for boredom - and Judy just sighed, her head suddenly aching.

The family knew of the young girl's unparalleled curiosity and propensity for taking apart things when left to her own devices. That's why she and Russell - like any responsible parent - hired a babysitter so that Charlie could be monitored.

Although they could've just asked - or bribed - their oldest to babysit, they couldn't. Leaving Quinn in charge of Charlotte when she and Russell are away is like dropping a boxful of mentol candy into a vat of Sprite: there will be messy explosions that'll end in a sticky, difficult situation.

"Are you planning on cleaning up this mess?"

The blonde girl nodded with a smile. "I can fix this all in one hour, Mom. I just need a little more time to observe the mechanism of each device that will allow me to recreate the system through cheap, easily accessible materials."

Judy just sighed and nodded, hoping that the TV will remain intact or Russell will incessantly whine to her. "Where's Rachel?" she remembered, looking around.

"Uhmm, she's asleep in my room."

The blonde woman arched an eyebrow at that. Rachel is the daughter of an old friend, Leroy. Although the brunette can be loud, bossy, and eccentric (one time, she talked Judy's ear off about musicals and proper breathing), she is a responsible girl. So responsible, in fact, that Judy didn't immediately jumped on board with Charlotte's explanation.

"Charlotte," she repeated with a firm voice, eyes narrowed in skepticism. "Is Rachel really sleeping?"

"Yes," the girl answered without looking up. Suspicious, Judy left her daughter to check on Rachel. Surprisingly, the brunette really is sleeping as soft snores filled the room.

_Huh,_ she mused, observing the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. _Maybe she's just tired,_ she concluded, although she still found it strange.

She walked back to the living room, intent on questioning Charlotte further when she caught a flicker of something in her expression: guilt. Judy groaned; she should've known that something is fishy. Those light blues - while calculative - can be as transparent as a flamboyant gay man pretending to be a straight, macho man.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled loudly, mentally counting to ten per her therapist's suggestion - that woman really is a blessing to her sanity. "Charlie, fix this mess then go to bed. And if you don't tell me the _real_ reason why Rachel is currently passed out, you'll be grounded for an entire month."

The blonde girl squealed in indignation, but one look from Judy is enough for her to realize that she's definitely in trouble. Panicked, she immediately confessed on how she used her new 'insta-nap' formula on Rachel without her consent. And without the brunette's usual distractions, she got bored and started tinkering with the appliances.

"The effect is just for a couple of hours," Charlotte reassured her mortified mother. "She'll wake up in," she glanced at her wristwatch, "approximately fifteen minutes, I promise."

"She better be, or I'll ground you for a year," the older woman threatened, remembering Leroy's stories about Hiram's overprotectiveness. He won't be thrilled that her daughter was used as an experimental subject without consent. "Clean up now."

"Mom..."

"_Now,_ Charlotte. I'll just go change," she said, gesturing at her scrub suit; she hasn't had the time to change earlier. Charlotte just grudgingly nodded and Judy saw the disappointed expression before the older blonde turned around and walked away.

She padded towards the master bedroom, thinking of what to explain to Leroy if Rachel decided to share her experience.

She sighed tiredly, hoping that the Berry men can be dissuaded with her award-winning pies.

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><p>"We're here." Charlie looked up from her gadget - a homemade tracking device - when the car finally stopped in front of a large house - larger than the Fabrays, in fact. She squinted her light blues as she surveyed the door, expectant.<p>

Jacob nudged the blonde beside him. "Go and get her."

The blonde nudged back. "She's got working legs, Jake."

The boy chuckled. "Aren't you the romantic type..."

"Shut up," Charlie grumbled as she refocused her attention to her gizmo. She busied herself with checking and re-checking the modified operating system that she installed, unaware of the tall, leggy girl currently sauntering their way.

"Hey, Char," Alexis greeted with a smile as soon as she opened the door to the blonde's side. Seeing that the other girl is busy, the raven-haired girl rolled her eyes before capturing the blonde's face and giving her a kiss. Tanned hands held the blonde in place as the kiss deepened, Alexis' firm grip softening as she started caressing the blonde's cheeks.

As usual, Charlie was surprised - no matter how regularly this happens - at Alexis' action, and yet the blonde's lips will always yield when the Latina's lips coaxed her into a deeper kiss.

"C'mon, girls. We'll be late," Jake reminded them with a huff, not bothered by the display. With a loud, wet smack, Alexis finally let go, but not without giving a sweet, final kiss before climbing into the back of the car.

"What happened to the mission?" the tanned girl asked as she carefully placed her purse beside her, elegantly crossing her legs in the process.

Charlie grinned, looking at the other girl through the rear-view mirror. "It was a success."

The tanned girl chuckled. "So she'll be walking in school later with a cotton candy hair?"

The blonde girl nodded with a smile before launching in an explanation about the chemical properties of the special hair dye. Alexis just cocked her head and listened patiently, her dark eyes observing the other girl as she prattled on about the impossibility of getting rid of the dye.

"How's Rachel, though?" the Latina inquired after a few seconds.

Charlie sighed. "She's okay now, I guess. Mr. Lee said that she'll be back tomorrow."

"Did you visit her again?"

A crease formed between her eyebrows as the blonde thought back. "Not since the last time. Why?"

Alexis shrugged. "No reason," she simply said, lying through her teeth as she crossed her arms on her chest.

But Charlie - as dense as she could be sometimes when it comes to social cues - sighed, aware of what the tanned girl is not voicing out. "You know it's not like that."

The tanned girl just shrugged again. "It's not like I have a say."

The blonde girl groaned. "You're such a-" she paused and groaned again, closing her eyes in frustration. This conversation has been too repetitive for her liking. Beside her, Jacob just looked straight ahead, aware that he shouldn't interfere. "You know I don't like Rachel _that_ way."

"Do I?" Alexis retorted, her dark eyebrow raising in question. "As much as I'm supportive of your... _hobbies_, I'm still confused on why you're doing all of these for her."

"She's a friend, you know that."

"Like _me_?"

Charlie scoffed. "Of course not."

"Then why are you doing all these for _her_?"

The blonde girl sighed, pursing her lips. She has her reasons, although she's unsure whether or not she divulge what she knows. But still, it wasn't her secret to tell in the first place. "Just trust me, okay? I'll explain when the time comes."

Alexis narrowed her eyes at the blonde. Moments later, the dark, hardened orbs softened at the Charlie's puppy expression before the tanned girl sighed; no matter how hard she tried, she could never get mad at the other girl.

"Fine," the tanned girl conceded before scooting forward on the leather seat. Tanned hand reached for the blonde's neck and gently pulled as she leaned forward, capturing the Charlie's lips for a quick kiss.

"I just hate sharing you..." Alexis mumbled, her eyes slowly opening as her hand combed through the blonde tresses.

Charlie grinned, her light blue eyes twinkling and the tanned girl's heart skipped a beat at the familiar, lovely smile. "You know you don't have any competition, Alex."

The raven-haired girl huffed but didn't say a word. _If only you knew..._ she thought, remembering how many girls and boys will undoubtedly grab the opportunity of being with the blonde genius if they could.

Charlie is oblivious to her own charm, and Alexis is somehow thankful for that. But only the fear of Lopez name - or Santana's reputation for being overly aggressive, rather - kept the suitors away, and Alexis made sure to use it to her full advantage.

But then there's Rachel Berry, someone who has spent years with Charlie even before Alexis knew the blonde girl existed. It was unnerving how close they are; the Latina is jealous and threatened, especially when she doesn't even know where she stands with Charlie.

_I won't lose you,_ she thought, staring longingly at the blonde who started sharing about the government subsidy for her new invention.

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><p>To be continued...<p>

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><p>Comments, criticisms, suggestions, and even violent reactions are welcome. Go crazy, mate. :)<p> 


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